


before the world catches up

by cabinfever



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Elves, Lord Of The Rings AU, M/M, Porn With Plot, Throne Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 13:29:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14498004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabinfever/pseuds/cabinfever
Summary: Noct peers through the red leaves and arching boughs of the forest, and he hums a quiet confirmation. Ignis’s instincts are as sharp as ever: the white stag they’ve been tracking grazes quietly by a stream, nosing through the grass and leaves that have fallen there. “Yes,” he breathes. Slowly, he raises his bow and aims carefully, slowing his breathing down until it’s hardly relevant at all. The world narrows around him. It is only Noct, and Ignis, and their prey.Ignis leans in close, lips a mere hair’s width from Noct’s ear.“Fire.”a prince and his advisor, in another life.





	before the world catches up

**Author's Note:**

> for [duscaenorange,](http://www.duscaenorange.tumblr.com) who asked for the elf prince and his advisor. this got too long to just be a tumblr fill (whoops). hope you enjoy!
> 
> title from "collar full" by panic!at the disco.

The forest is silent around them.

Up here in the treetops, Noct is all too aware of how truly isolated they are. The only sound is the wind whistling through the trees, the mournful cries of distant birds, and the soft rhythm of Ignis’s breath beside him.

This is familiar. This is home.

Ignis keeps his hair back when they hunt like this, leaving his ears exposed. They twitch now, and he tilts his head, angling his attention to the underbrush to the east. “This way,” he murmurs, and he inches along the bough he’s standing on, listening once more before he leaps to an adjacent tree. 

Noctis follows him, nocking an arrow in preparation; he’s been at this with Ignis enough times to know that they’re close. He leaps from branch to branch in pursuit of Ignis, keeping Ignis’s dark purple and black raiment in view as a reference. The balance comes easily to him, even with his hands occupied; he lands beside Ignis, crouching low on one of the higher branches, sending a few scarlet leaves spiraling lazily down to the ground. The tree sways, but Noctis is unafraid. It’ll hold their weight.

“There,” Ignis tells him, and he points down below. “Do you see it?”

Noct peers through the red leaves and arching boughs of the forest, and he hums a quiet confirmation. Ignis’s instincts are as sharp as ever: the white stag they’ve been tracking grazes quietly by a stream, nosing through the grass and leaves that have fallen there. “Yes,” he breathes. Slowly, he raises his bow and aims carefully, slowing his breathing down until it’s hardly relevant at all. The world narrows around him. It is only Noct, and Ignis, and their prey.

Ignis leans in close, lips a mere hair’s width from Noct’s ear.

“Fire.”

The arrow soars through the air with only a whisper of sound, burying itself solidly in the heart of the deer. The creature bellows, staggers, and falls to the ground.

“Well done,” Ignis purrs, and he kisses Noct on the cheek before he goes swinging down from the treetop towards Noct’s prey, landing lightly beside it in the underbrush. He steps towards it quietly, crouching low as he approaches. When Noct drops down beside him, he hears Ignis murmuring soft apologies to the stag, and he hangs back to watch. Ignis runs his gloved fingers along the stag’s side, soothing the beast even as he bends low over its neck. The creature makes a low, broken sound. Ignis hushes it quietly; he draws a fine dagger from one of his many holsters and draws it swiftly across the stag’s throat.

The creature falls still.

Ignis turns to Noct, blinking up at him with a small smile. The little spray of blood on his face stands out well against the bright green of his eyes. “A perfect shot, Noct. It was nearly dead already.”

Noct grins. “Thanks to you.”

Ignis snorts, “I merely guided you towards that which you already knew. You did all the work, Noct.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Noct walks up to the stag, crouching low and running his fingers over the stag’s incredible antlers. They’re larger than usual, as has been the trend in this season’s deer. Much as Noctis admires them, it concerns him. Too many stags have been overly large this season. He leans closer to inspect the stag’s eye, and his suspicions are confirmed: a black film has obscured the entirety of the eye, and some tar-like liquid drips from the corner like tears. “Another one,” he tells Ignis. “It’s messed up.”

“Concerning.”

“Yeah.” Noct stands. “Ready!” he calls, wincing at how loudly his own voice echoes around the treetops.

Within seconds, other figures come swinging quietly down from the surrounding trees: the rest of their hunting party, dressed in the silver and black of their king’s personal hunters, descends upon them. They’ve been hanging back to give their crown prince space to lead the hunt. Their leader, Nyx, gives the stag an approving once-over. “Good kill,” he praises. “And clean. I’m impressed, Your Highness.”

Noct shrugs.

“We’ll take it home for you.” Nyx signals to some of the others, and they step forward, quickly tying the stag up for transport. 

“Make sure my father sees it first,” Noct orders. “This one’s mutated too.”

Nyx purses his lips. “I don’t like it one bit,” he mutters. He turns to leave along with his hunters.

Ignis stands and catches Nyx by the wrist. “I hope we’re in agreement that this abnormality isn’t to be spoken of with anyone other than His Majesty,” he says. His tone is light, but Noct doesn’t miss the way his grip leaves a pale imprint when he lets go of Nyx. 

“Of course,” Nyx says, bowing his head.

Ignis smiles. “On your way, then.”

The hunters finish tying up Noct’s kill and lift it up between them. Together, they trot away between the trees, bearing the stag as if it weighs nothing. Nyx gives the two of them one more lingering look, then he nods to them curtly and climbs nimbly up a tree to give pursuit.

“Tell me, Noct,” Ignis says after they’ve gone. “How did Ulric react to me?”

“He wasn’t happy,” Noct replies, slinging his bow over his shoulder and leaping up into the nearest tree. Ignis follows suit, and they begin the long trek along the treetops towards home. “You know he doesn’t like orders when he’s already made up his mind.”

“At least, not when they’re from me.”

Noct snorts and swings to the next branch, relishing in the sharp sting of tiny branches brushing against his cheeks. “All your orders are my orders. You might as well be a prince.”

“You’re a flatterer, Noctis.”

“It’s a talent.”

They return swiftly to the great hidden city of Insomnia within the trees, ducking through its gates without much ceremony. A few of the other elves bow and greet him as they pass, but Noct waves them off with a soft smile and a few words of greeting. They descend through the passageways of the city, shirking the brighter lights of the king’s throne room to go to Noct’s section of their subterranean city.

“A good day,” Ignis tells him as they make their way into Noct’s own receiving chamber. “You did well.”

“It was fun, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Just more of the same.” Noct sprawls in his throne of bones and branches, stretching languidly across it. He blinks at Ignis slowly, studying him with half-lidded eyes. “What else is there to do today?” he asks. “Or are we done?”

Ignis raises an eyebrow. “Would you rather attend to matters of state?” he asks, removing all of his weapons and setting them carefully aside.

“I’d rather be napping.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, Noctis.” Ignis scrubs his hand across his face, pinching at the bridge of his nose. The skin beneath his fingers shimmers and turns dark when he touches it, and when he removes his hand, jagged scars are left in its wake. The glamour he uses fades from existence as Ignis sheds it along with the rest of his robes. He’s left only with his bare skin and scars, proudly displaying all for Noct to see. The scars are for Noct alone; there are very few in Mirkwood who know that the prince and his companion dared challenge a dragon. Those who did are mostly ashes now. Ignis has had hundreds of years to get used to his blindness; with the glamour in place, it’s nearly impossible to tell that he’s lost his sight to the fires of the great dragon in the East.

Noct likes him better with the scars. The glamour is a lie; it’s a mask. The scars show his fierceness and resilience and wild beauty. The dried remains of blood on his skin only accentuate that. He could be royal, really, with looks like that.

Ignis gathers up his robes, striding shamelessly around the chamber to place them alongside his weapons. His expression, usually carefully neutral and in control, settles into one of intense concentration. His brow creases around something Noct can’t quite understand.

Noct leans forward. “What’s that face?”

“I’m just thinking.”

“Care to share?”

“Things are changing, Noct, and I do not like it,” Ignis warns. “Dark things are rising in the East. Animals are changing in our forests. The nights grow longer.”

“That’s why we have the scouting parties,” Noct assures him. “Gladio and Prompto will be fine; they’re due back from their audience in Gondor any day now.”

Ignis scoffs. “I don’t envy them. How do you like the menfolk?”

Noctis wrinkles his nose. “They’re loud.”

“That they are,” Ignis hums contemplatively. “They certainly lack...subtlety.”

“That’s one way of saying it.”

Ignis walks over to Noct at last, staring down at him with wide eyes turned silver by dragonfire. He bends to kiss him on the forehead. “Any word from Lothlorien?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Noct reaches up and runs his fingers through Ignis’s hair. “Luna’s keeping an eye on things. Nothing gets into that forest without her knowing.”

“And the same goes for Rivendell, I assume.”

“As far as I know. I haven’t heard anything different from them, and my father hasn’t said anything.” This is no fun to talk about; Noct pulls Ignis down for a kiss instead.

As long as the Rings exist, those realms are safe. Noct knows that one day he’ll wear one of the great Rings of the world, bearing the light and steel granted to the lords of Mirkwood. Until then, though, he has only the powers of his body, and he’s reckless with the lack of responsibility on his shoulders. It’s usually Ignis’s job to temper the fire in his prince’s heart, but on days like this, Noct knows he can’t help but stoke it just a bit.

He doesn’t mind.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Ignis tells him, but he’s already leaning over him to catch him in another kiss. His tongue gently prods at Noct until he opens up to him, and they stay like that for a while, with Ignis holding him by the back of the head. When he withdraws, Ignis gently extracts the circlet of silver vines from Noct’s hair, setting it down somewhere off to the side.

“Why not?” Noctis grins up at him. “We have time.”

“I thought you’d rather be napping,” Ignis teases.

“This takes priority, I think.” He pulls Ignis down onto the throne with him, holding him by the waist. Ignis has been doing more fighting on the outskirts as of late; it’s obvious in the harder planes of his stomach, and in a few new scars along his skin. Noct explores them carefully, giving attention to each one with fingers and lips, whispering quiet praise to Ignis the whole time. Somewhere along the way, Ignis starts moving in his lap, slowly grinding down on Noct. Noct can feel him hardening against him, and he smiles against Ignis’s chest, reaching to rub at one of his nipples until he hears a soft noise come unbidden from Ignis’s throat.

He’s pleased that Ignis isn’t insisting that they move elsewhere to do this. It matters not if someone will see them; the elves of Mirkwood know enough of their prince to let him have his way. Besides, Noct’s rather fond of this throne.

Ignis rolls his hips down to meet Noct’s, letting his eyes slip shut.  _ “Meleth,”  _ he breathes.

Noct grins. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“A bit,” Ignis agrees, and he lets out a sigh when Noct leaves a line of sloppy kisses up his neck. Experimentally, Noct bites at the junction of his neck and shoulder, and he’s rewarded with a soft curse and another roll of the hips. “Remind me again why you’re still clothed,” Ignis breathes.

“Royal privilege or something.” He really should at least get rid of his pants; their activities have left him interested, twitching up to meet Ignis’s hips with his own.

“Or something,” Ignis scoffs, and he nips at the tip of Noct’s ear. “For your impertinence.” His fingers work nimbly at Noct’s jacket, pulling the soft dark fabric down his shoulders. “Get this off.”

On a whim, Noct abandons his efforts on Ignis’s chest and instead reaches for his cock, wrapping his fingers around it and thumbing at the head. He’s already hard, which Noct is incredibly proud of.

Ignis’s hips stutter forward, and his careful undressing of Noct halts for a moment. “Noct,” he hisses, “please.”

Noct laughs and begins stroking him in earnest, letting go only when Ignis pulls his shirt off for him. Ignis makes the most appealing noises, come to think of it. His cock, still in his pants, twitches with interest. “Let me hear you,” he orders, and he twists his wrist on the way up this time.

Ignis hums out in a response that draws itself out into a throatier moan. His fingers dig into Noct’s arms, and he jerks his hips into Noct’s grip, arching up for him.

That’s what Noct was looking for. “Pants?” he asks, and he’s a little desperate now.

Ignis replies with another searing kiss, sloppier and wetter this time, ducking his head to suck a mark into Noct’s neck as he reaches down between them. His fingers skitter down Noct’s stomach, making him shiver, before he reaches Noct’s waistline. For a moment, his hand brushes Noct’s, and he joins him, holding Noct’s hand with his own, setting the pace that Noct’s using on him. Noct’s happy to oblige, and he strokes Ignis faster, collecting precome on one of his upward strokes to smooth his way. Ignis keens into his ear with a word in neither language Noct knows, and then he’s letting go of Noct’s hand and fumbling at his pants, freeing Noct from where his cock is trapped.

Noctis hums when Ignis begins to stroke him in a matching rhythm. The sounds that Ignis has been making have been more than enough to get him hard, and he bucks up into Ignis’s grip, begging for more. “Ignis,” he groans. “Ignis, c’mon.”

“Hush,” Ignis breathes in his ear. “Let me do the work.” He pulls Noct’s hand away and takes both of their cocks in his hand, both of them slick with precome, and strokes them together. 

Noct knows neither of them will last too long. They’ve not done this in a while, and the hunts always leave them more than a little excited for things like this. Ignis ends up dropping his head to Noct’s shoulder, letting go of the two of them to instead hold onto his hips for leverage. He begins grinding their hips together in earnest, setting the pace from above.

They rock together, all delicious, messy friction between them and their stomachs, adopting a rhythm that leaves them gasping into each other’s mouths. 

Noct’s not sure what to do with his hands anymore. “Ignis,” he moans, scrabbling at the arms of his throne, then Ignis’s arms, then his back, reaching up to tangle his fingers in the long strands of Ignis’s hair. He pulls sharply and is rewarded with a low cry from Ignis, who breaks their rhythm in a stutter of his hips.

“Noct,” Ignis hisses. “My prince, Noct-”

He comes with a sharp gasp, tugging at Ignis’s hair when he does. Ignis follows soon after, sighing Noct’s name like a prayer as he spills his release between their bodies. They ride out the aftershocks together, languidly rolling their hips together.

They sit like that for a moment, getting their breathing back in order, leaning into each other’s necks. Ignis lifts his head first, ducking to kiss Noct again, slow and burning. Noct lets his eyes fall shut and enjoys the taste of Ignis for a moment, reaching up to brush his hair out of his face. He takes his time when his touch skitters across the dark scars on Ignis’s left side, making Ignis shiver. He knows they’re sensitive.

Ignis presses a kiss to Noct’s temple and leans back; the worry is gone from his face now, and Noct considers that a victory in and of itself.

“A nap now?” Noct suggests, grinning lazily up at Ignis.

“After we clean ourselves?” Ignis asks pointedly, carefully untangling himself from Noct and the throne. “Certainly.” He holds his hand out. “Come along,  _ meleth nîn.” _

Noct rolls his eyes. “You’re such a romantic.”

“It’s our native language, Noctis; don’t be absurd.” Ignis pulls Noct to his feet, kissing him on the forehead. “You’re melodramatic.”

“You’re getting your pronouns confused,” Noct teases.

“Come on,” Ignis laughs, and he tugs Noctis deeper into their chambers, “I think a bath is in order.”

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at [triplehelix!](http://www.triplehelix.tumblr.com)


End file.
